


You May Not Even Recognise

by ilyiccia



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Past Abuse, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Semi-Open Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27433306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyiccia/pseuds/ilyiccia
Summary: In which Blake reflects while cutting her hair.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	You May Not Even Recognise

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies! In case you didn’t see the tags; there is references to part ab*se in this fic so please please stay safe and feel free to stop reading if you’re uncomfortable! I’d like to quickly apologise for any mistakes or anything hehe but I hope you enjoy this!

Her hands shake as she picks up the scissors. 

Blake slowly raises her gaze, looking up at her reflection as it stares back at her with tired eyes. When all this is over she will refrain from telling anyone about how scared she was. She knows they wouldn’t understand. She also knows that they could understand if she’d only allow herself to open up. She refrains from doing that too. 

Blake has never liked admitting to her emotions. There is enough going on in the lives of her friends and she could never forgive herself if she were to add to that stress. Her problems are minuscule compared to what they are facing and it would be selfish for her to force them onto others. That’s what she tells herself at least. That’s what she’s been made to believe. 

Selfish is a word she had grown to hate yet it is the only way she can think to describe herself at times. Perhaps that is a sign of her internalised self loathing. In all honesty it’s more likely to product of years of gaslighting, manipulation and conditioning. Yet those very factors have left her constantly second guessing everything she thinks and feels to the point where her brain is mess of unanswered questions and misplaced blame and her heart throbs anytime someone shows her the slightest ounce of compassion as something deep inside her twists and constricts and hisses about how she doesn’t deserve it. 

It is and endless cycle. One that’s hurts her head and pierces her heart and is the exact reason she so desperately tries to deny that there is anything wrong with her. 

The words _‘I’m fine’_ have been permanently burned into her tongue as an automated response to any sings of concern from another person. She can’t show weakness. Can’t let them people know how broken she is. Just thinking about opening up makes her uncomfortable. She bites her lip hard enough to draw blood as she swallows down her insecurities. She doesn’t remember looking down but now she finds herself staring down at the scissors she’s holding between shaking finger. They’re clearly rather new; yet there’s a tiny speck of rust from where the paint has been scratched between the mechanisms. She hates that she can relate to a pair of scissors; seemingly fine on the outside but bearing a small imperfection that once noticed is difficult to ignore and could eventually cause the whole thing to fall apart. 

She looks back at her reflection and she doesn’t see a huntress nor a warrior nor anyone deserving of her status and accomplishments. Instead she sees a broken girl who is young and naive. She sees a coward, truly exhausted from constantly running away from her problems and from the people she has wronged. She’s sees herself and she is disgusted. 

Shame and regret twists inside her; angry, spiteful, _restless._ She hates those feelings because of how starkly they remind her of Adam. Memories threaten to come flooding back, pounding at the corners of her minding begging to be let in. She tries to force them back down but eventually the damn breaks and the waters flow freely. 

Blake remembers Adam’s voice. The way he would berate her; break her down to nothing so he could more easily take what he wanted, more easily take control. She remembers the times he lost his calm, when he would scream and yell and swear at her. She can still feel his hands running along her skin. His nails digging into flesh when he was angry. The bruises have faded now but the fear and discomfort they brought have not. Perhaps they never will. She still feels his grip on her sometimes. _Occasionally she wakes to phantom hands forcing her down. They wrap around her neck as a disconnected voice whispers sweet nothingness into her ear, promising her freedom that will never come._

Blake shivers as she is pulled back from the memory. She feels as though she has been plunged into a tub of freezing water. She hates the feeling. Hates how familiar it has become from months of having to ground herself. There have been several times someone had noticed the way she stumbles slightly, blinking rapidly as she is pulled back to reality. Each time she has come up with a new reason for it. None were ever that convincing but there had always been something bigger going on to distract the other person rather quickly. She fears the day they’ll be no distraction. The days she be pulled back to a reality where a dozen eyes bear into her soul and the questions coming flowing without end. 

She fears the day she’ll have to talk about what happened to her because it will mean admitting that it really did happen and it was real. 

She studies her face in the mirror. Her eyes are outlined by dark bags and there’s a small bruise forming on the side of her jaw. She rubs a hand across her chin, remembering the scars that once resides there. They’ve faded now, but if one where to look hard enough- to feel the flesh with the intent of finding something- they may notice the unevenness and imperfections of her skin. 

She moves on from her face, not wanting to dwell on the memories of unwanted touch or hands gripping her checks and yanking her forwards. Gingerly she begins running her fingers through her hair. They get caught occasionally or tangle up in the small tears but otherwise run smoothly. 

She used to love her hair. As a child she would sit for ages letting her mother brush it or father style it. As she got older it became more problematic. Being a huntress meant fighting and fighting left no room for error. But having long hair that could get in the way caused problems and they could be costly. She wanted to cut her hair for a long time but Adam wouldn’t let her. He said it would look ugly and threaten to shave her entire head if she ever attempted to cut her hair short. So she kept it long and she grew to loathe it. It was the only part of her Adam complimented in a way that seemed genuine and that somehow made her hate it more. Her hair was a constant reminder of him and the lies he had fed her to keep her by his side. 

Adam may be gone but his hold on her remains. No matter how far she ran, how much she tried to repress and move on he was still there hiding in her nightmares and lurking in the corners of her minds. Blake wants to move on but she knows that to do so she would have to open up and the prospect scares her more than any Grimm in Remnant. Until she is ready to share the pain of her past with her friends she will continue to deal with it the only way she knows how: alone. 

With a sharp intake of breath she raise the scissors. She’s blatantly aware of the fact that she could easily mess things up and completely ruin her hair but she can’t bring herself to ask for help. This isn’t just about cutting hair. It’s about relinquishing herself of a part of the hold Adam has over her. It’s above moving on, even just the tiniest bit from her past. Its proving to herself that she can be strong and face her problems in a healthier way. It’s about becoming the person she want to be and so she has to do it alone. 

Once again Blake stares up at her reflection. She pulls a clump of hair into her hands and brings it in front of her face. She holds back the flood of memories and ignores the fear strangling her heart, finally managing to steady her hand. The metal of the scissors seems to absorb her anxieties and she inhales one last time and makes the first cut. 

Blake cuts her hair and with it she takes the first step to cutting ties with her past. When all of this is over she will look in the mirror and all the fear and regret and uncertainty will disappear, even if it is just for a few precious moments. She will feel proud of herself and how far she has done and even though she’ll know there is still much progress to be made she will take pride in having begun the journey to making it. 

She’ll look in the mirror and Blake will finally catch a glimpse of the person she has always wanted to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Tysm for reading!! Ma Tumblr is https://ilyiccia.tumblr.com/ if you’re interested! Have a wonderful day; y’all are amazing!! <3


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